Recently, I dove into a month-long documentary binge and cleared out a solid chunk of Netflix’s shelf of films, including The Ivory Game, Rotten, A Plastic Ocean, Capital in the 21st Century, Chasing Coral, and, most recently, Seaspiracy. I learned a lot from these films, but there was something itching at me the entire time I was watching, something that has been itching at me since people started pointing fingers at China for the pandemic, since every climate piece I’ve read has insinuated the same common enemy — that the climate crisis rests on the developing world’s shoulders.

Talk to…


*Previously a Featured Story on Medium.com

Growing up, I had the unique, interesting, and irreconcilable experience of learning Uyghur (also Uighur) dance from my Beijing Dance Academy-trained Chinese dance teacher. A late immigrant to the states, she did not so much leave China as she came to America. In other words, when she left her mother country, she had no reason to leave behind her allegiance to her country nor disagree with what it had given her. She was, after all, one of the luckier lot to have gotten out of her rural home and into the big city of…


On April 26, 1986, a nuclear reactor in Chernobyl, Ukraine exploded, and to this day it is considered the worst nuclear disaster in history. Chernobyl’s legacy, however, is more than just the dangers of nuclear testing plants. Creator and writer of HBO’s Chernobyl Craig Mazin says instead, “The lesson of Chernobyl isn’t that modern nuclear power is dangerous. The lesson is that lying, arrogance, and suppression of criticism are dangerous.”

And it’s no wonder, then, that throughout much of the series I found myself shocked that many scenes only rang to mind one thing — the current President of the…


In this inaugural post-graduation blog post, I would like to write on two things: (i) the bizarre but also intimate experience of graduating from Stanford University in the comfort of my own living room, and (ii) my relationship with San Francisco illuminated by this physical circularity of ending right where I started.

To dim an already drab morning, my June 14th graduation day began with the city’s usual fog and an absence of any light (a metaphor, perhaps). Knowing that what would’ve been an elaborate outdoor ceremony in the company of friends, family, and teachers has now been demoted to…

Angelina Hue

Writer based in San Francisco. Stanford ’20.

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